


Shadows from the Walls of Death

by RosalindInPants



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Assassination, Gen, M/M, books as murder weapons, poisonous books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalindInPants/pseuds/RosalindInPants
Summary: Two short stories inspired by the book, "Shadows from the Walls of Death", a book containing deadly levels of arsenic.Repost from Tumblr
Relationships: Jess Brightwell&Brendan Brightwell, Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a real book! You can learn more about it here: https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/shadows-from-the-walls-of-death-book  
> Thanks to Blessedharlot for the prompt.

As a captain, there was really no need for Niccolo Santi to participate directly in confiscation duty. Soldiers could be sent out with a sergeant and a junior Scholar to do the grunt work of separating illegal collections from their collectors while the captain coordinated the effort from the comfort of his office. But Captain Santi had always favored a more hands-on approach to leadership, and more importantly, he would never entrust the Scholar he’d brought along on this mission to anyone else.

Ever since the conclusion of his teaching assignment, Christopher Wolfe had been restless. He’d never been a man to sit still for long, and having his research privileges so strictly restricted and his activities constantly monitored was driving him toward a madness Santi never wanted to see him descend into again. This job was hardly worthy of a Scholar as accomplished as Chris, but it was the only one Santi had to give.

The light in Christopher’s eyes as he handled each cache of original books was well worth it. With each home and business they visited, Santi could see the tension leaving his lover’s body. On the second day, Chris even woke up early and brought two mugs of coffee to the bedroom with a smile on his face.

But of course it couldn’t last. One minute, Santi was watching Wolfe sort through a pile of books found under the floorboards in a shop that claimed to deal only in hats, the next, the man he loved was letting out a strangled cry and racing toward the bathroom while screaming, “Don’t touch it! For the love of all the gods, don’t touch that book!”

With a sharp gesture, Santi directed one of his soldiers to guard the books while he pursued his beloved Scholar into the back of the store. He found Wolfe at the bathroom sink, his Scholar’s robe in a puddle of black silk on the floor, frantically scrubbing his hands.

“Chris? What’s wrong?” he asked gently, hesitantly adding in a whisper, “Is it a memory?”

He saw the hurt flash across Wolfe’s features, quickly replaced by anger. The scrubbing continued. “Why are we in this shop, Nic?”

“We’re following up on a tip from a concerned citizen…” Santi paused, following his partner’s implication to its logical conclusion. When he went on, it was in a whisper, “…who could have been in the employ of the Archivist or the Artifex, yes. I selected this one for us because it sounded like one of the most promising.” He’d wanted to make sure Chris got his hands on books, and if he understood what had just happened correctly, he might have nearly killed the man he loved in the process. “What was it? Another trapped book?”

Wolfe kept scrubbing his hands. “Worse. It’s poison. Every page of that book is coated in arsenic.” He barked out a bitter laugh. “They actually thought I wouldn’t recognize it as soon as I opened it.”

“How…?” Santi hadn’t noticed any distinct smells, and the book had looked like some kind of old art textbook.

Another bitter laugh. “It’s the work of an American Medica, quite old, as you could see. He was researching causes of household poisoning and discovered that arsenic was widely used in wallpaper. This book, of which four copies are known to exist, was his presentation to the Curia on the dangers of such wallpaper. It made quite the impression, as I understand it. Resulted in a widespread effort to eradicate the very wallpaper it displays. I went to a lecture on it back when I was a Postulant.” He shut off the water, inspected his hands, and dried them on the towel hanging beside the sink. He bent to pick the robe up from the floor, “Careful of this. There’s dust on the sleeve, but it will serve to wrap the books for transport. They’re all contaminated. I’ll need to borrow a pair of gloves from one of your men.” Taking out a translation tag, he walked past Santi, back toward the books, a note of amusement creeping into his voice. “At least this will make trouble for the old bastards when it lands in the archives.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a long time since Jess last encountered an ink-licker. He’d thought the perversion would die out with the advent of the printing press, but here he was, sitting in a grimy London hotel room at a tiny table with a man who could not possibly have known who he was. A man who Jess had hunted for the past month.

“You really have it then?” The ink-licker asked. “A book that’s not in the archives and has never been reprinted?”

Jess unbuttoned his shirt to access his smuggling harness and retrieve the prize inside. Harder to do with gloves on, but he didn’t dare remove the gloves. He’d wrapped this book especially carefully, in light of its unique materials.

The man across the table licked his lips as Jess carefully unwrapped the book.

“Check the Codex and ask any bookseller you like,” Jess said. “This is the only copy in the world.”

Hunger bright in his eyes, the man slid a heavy sack of coins across the table to Jess. As soon as Jess had the sack in hand, the ink-licker snatched at the book with his bare hands.

Jess glanced into the bag of coins for appearance’s sake, then stood and bowed to his customer. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

He heard the ripping of paper as he stepped out the door of the room, closing it behind him. As he walked away, he whistled a cheerful tune.

When the newspapers reported the ink-licker’s death by arsenic poisoning, he opened the bottle of brandy he’d been saving and poured half out over the rooftop where he sat, alone.

“Cheers, Brendan. Now we’ve both gotten one.”


End file.
